No More Prissy Girls
by Treewarf
Summary: “Have you ever noticed,” Eragon mused as he set down his mug of ale, “that there are a lot of prissy girls popping up nowadays?” A MarySue bashing parody cowritten by Herculeha.


**Hello, and welcome to our story! As the title suggests, it is a parody bashing Mary-Sues. It will be told in five different tales, those of five prissy, completely Mary-Sueish girls. Each tale will have several parts, never fear:-P**

**Please enjoy!**

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**No More Prissy Girls**

_Starla's Tale: Part 1_

"Have you ever noticed," Eragon mused as he set down his mug of ale, "that there are a lot of prissy girls popping up nowadays?"

Starla's Tale

The Urgals ripped through the windows, sending a shower of broken glass cascading down to the floor. Six or seven clambered in over the sill and poured into the house, their weapon of choice brandished high above their ugly heads. Lamps and tables were smashed in seconds, petty obstacles in the way of the beasts' true goal.

Breathing in great, fearful gasps, Starla darted through the shadows of the house, keeping out of the Urgals' way. Her bare feet padded carefully across the wooden floor as she maneuvered this way and that, until a square of moonlight on the ground introduced her savior: a small window above the clay makeshift oven.

She hoisted herself up on top of the oven and thrust her feet through the window. Slender as she was, it was still a tight squeeze, and she prayed frantically that she wouldn't be spotted as she wriggled through the small gap and landed on the ground in a cloud of dust.

Not even taking the time to look behind her, she ran. Her raven-colored hair whipped out behind her, a long banner shimmering and rippling in the moonlight. Her legs pumped as hard and fast as they could, but they could not save her from encountering the Urgal that leapt from the bushes, a mace leering dangerously against the darkness.

He swung the large weapon at Starla, but she swiftly dodged it while muffling a terrified squeak. Without even thinking, she lurched forward on her nimble toes and sent a fist crashing into the beast's hand. With a pained howl, the mace clattered from its grasp. In one fluid motion, she dipped to the ground, snatched the mace in her thin fingers, and slew the Urgal where it stood.

Still reeling from what had just happened, she fled her home city of Yazuac. Screams of her family and friends echoed in the night, but she never stopped running, not once. Before long, the screams faded into nothingness and the city was a gray haze in the distance. Then, and only then, did Starla finally rest, collapsing onto the ground in an exhausted heap.

Eventually the blood-filled night melded into day, and sunlight peered through the young girl's eyelids, rousing her from an almost rock-like sleep.

"Mama…" she groaned, shifting slightly, "why's my pillow so hard?"

But upon feeling the coarse dirt on her exposed skin, she realized that something was not at all right. Like a fierce punch to her gut, everything came rushing back at once. The Urgals…the slaying…. Finally away from it all, Starla began to weep, grieving for those she had left behind. Her tears marked wet trails on her cheeks before splashing onto the dusty ground.

Whether she wanted to or not, she knew she had to go back to Yazuac. There was no way she could possibly survive with nothing more than the clothes on her back. She needed food, a water husk.

She stood up and smoothed out her knee-length, simple brown dress. It was frayed at the bottom and patchy from years of wear and tear. Still, it suited her tan complexion well, despite its less-than-perfect condition.

Swallowing hard, Starla decided that it was now or never. She took a deep breath and was about to start her way back to the city when a bright flash signaled her from the corner of her eye. She turned to see the rock she had used as her pillow shining in the morning sun.

She squatted down, looking at it intently. It was a very pretty stone. Unlike anything she had ever seen, it was blood red with rich blue veins. It was shinier than the most polished coin she'd ever possessed. When Starla picked it up with curious hands, it was somewhat heavy, but not so heavy that it was burdensome. She moved her hand along oblong outline. Oh, how smooth it was! She rubbed her tear-stained cheek against it, feeling its flawless surface against her skin.

Letting out a long sigh, she placed the stone back onto the ground. Pretty though it was, she could not afford to be carrying around a stone when she needed to save her energy for carrying necessities. With one last backwards glance, Starla stiffened her shoulders and began the long walk back to Yazuac.

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"Now that you mention it…" Murtagh said in response to Eragon's question, "there _do_ seem to be a lot of girls popping up."

"And they all have dragons," Eragon continued, his eyes narrowing as a tall female figure briefly passed the door to Murtagh's room near the great dwarven city of Tronjheim. "According to the legends, that doesn't even make _sense_."

The older man took a long sip of ale. "Eragon…I think we've got a serious problem on our hands."


End file.
